


The Harpsichord is Broken and the Television's Fried

by tsukara



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Gen, Young Avengers Vol. 2 (2013), ghost kid loki, murder weapon loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4143732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukara/pseuds/tsukara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the bad exes club, they're the ones that haven't even started dating and are still screwing each other over. (Amazing anger-management issues and mythological mischief. How could it go wrong?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everyone's a Coward When You Look Them in the Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Written in two parts over six months for intrikate88. Last... year. Last two years? I may be kind of bad at posting fic in places in a timely manner...

He definitely doesn't like her.

His magic isn't the only thing confounded in this small body. Perceptions, thoughts, even his reactions and responses are different and strange from his old, former (he tries not to think of it as correct, quite) self. So just because his heart speeds up and her threats of violence make him grin once her back is turned (like those from a certain other girl did to another boy who wasn't him), it means nothing.

And her, Miss America? She's loud and brash and shows off her legs and is definitely not his type at all. Or, at least, what his type used to be. Everything is so confusing these days, but he is no mewling neophyte when it comes to women. Never has been. Certainly not for loud-mouthed, bold, and totally uninterested girls like America.

Of course, no one knows all of that about him, if they know any of it. He's in the same body that fell for Leah, that admires the All-Mother beyond words to the bounds of familial fealty, that--by Odin's scraggly beard--hasn't even had its first kiss yet, and such an odd thing, that. With his history and memory packed in close in this tiny body, to not even have had a first kiss? Preposterous. And yet true, which seems to be becoming a theme of this new-again life.

Also, she's much older than this body is, than he appears to be. What interest would she even have in a child (in body, definitely not in mind)? Anyway, it's not as if he has any interest in her. He definitely doesn't like her.

*

She doesn't like Loki. Can't quite bring herself to hate him, exactly, even knowing his history old and new. America just isn't good at hate. Anger, oh yes, that is an old friend, but hatred? No. Definitely still doesn't mean she likes him. Especially after that whole sending-her-off-to-the-sixth-dimension bullshit he pulled. Definitely not. 

Nevermind that he was at least the tiniest bit endearing when was so, well, tiny. That didn't matter. She always knew his true character would be revealed to everyone eventually. And when he asked her about Wiccan? Seemingly revealed to her his plans? That was definitely what would do it, or so she thought.

So what if she was kind of, sort of wrong about that? For a little while. They got the message eventually, don't trust Loki, but not really. Still letting him hang around (maybe letting wasn't the right word. Perhaps tolerating was), claiming they were all tied to the damn spell, especially him, that he was so essential? Ha. She didn't trust him anywhere near as she could throw him, even if that was pretty far.

*

_Maybe if you're lucky, she won't go for the princely Asgardian jewels like Leah did. Just the face. Or the solar plexus._

Loki jerked, startled by the voice in his head that he refused to think of as his conscience, or 'dead Loki'--'Kid Loki', no matter than he was still in a child's body himself. "Leah?" Why bring her up? He hadn't thought about her in a long while. There had been the fleeting thought, after what he had known of Loki's three conversations, but after that... She was gone, what was the use of bringing her up?

 _She knows how to deal with boys like us_ , said the Loki apparition in his head, knowingly and deliberately echoing Hela's words. The child he had been had not understood then, had not wanted to understand. This Loki most certainly did--and understood too that he was applying her words to more than just the far-off Leah. "Tch, bringing her up, of all people."

 _Not just me._ And that was it. No matter how hard he tried, he could not get his guilty subconscious to elaborate further on its cryptic statement. So it was really for the best that he ended up getting elaboration from the multiverse itself instead, in the end. 

*

The new body changed nothing. As far as she was concerned, he was still a good for nothing godling full of schemes and tricks and too smart for his own good by half. Even if this new body was aged up, you couldn't mature out of being bad to the bone. He would never change, Loki, and would always be Loki, even if he was a little bit hot now. Not that he was her type either, in so many ways, still, a little bit good looking.

Not something that America would EVER admit to even thinking, of course, even on a purely aesthetic level. She'd seen the histories, the mayfly dimensions, the skeletons and the destruction almost as bad as the Kree and all on his lonesome at that. The dimensions where everything was dead. The Kree were bad enough, but it seemed like Loki killed everything, given long enough. Crocodile tears changed nothing. So it absolutely didn't matter the skin that he was in. She'd seen the charred skeleton underneath the smoking hot skin.

His story didn't have a happy ending. It never does. He was Loki, and he always would be, and his story does not have happy endings no matter what telling they're in. She'd save him along the way, because he's got plans, and he's good at them too, even if she never trusts them totally, and rightly enough. But he doesn't get a happy ending.

And it really doesn't matter after everything falls out, the truth at last, overdue and so fucking bitter. Even though, as it so often goes, the truth is stranger than anything she had thought on first, second, and subsequent glances. 

After that though, killing him? Would be the easy way out. It wasn't like hell--or rather, Hel--had been able to hold him the first time 'round. Or the second. Or however many trips it was he'd made to that damned domain to come traipsing back out again. (She'd only done as much research as Loki himself called for, forgetting just how many places Loki reached into, and so was a bit fuzzy on the detail of Norse God Afterlife, really. But it didn't matter. Not a nice place, she'd gathered. It was called Hel, so what more did she need to know?) No that wouldn't be fitting at all.

Instead, love saving the day in the end? Now that was definitely fitting, even with Loki's continuing commentary, like he couldn't help it, couldn't stop up his galloping tongue for longer than about five seconds cumulative lest he explode. Maybe he really couldn't help it. Maybe that was just the way that Lokis were. And she still didn't like the way Lokis were. Definitely not.


	2. All Your Diction Dripping with Disdain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They would probably forgive even him. I mean, he’s genuinely sad and rueful and no one is even watching. Also, Loki’s life is ruled by cliches forever.

Loki was a god of many things, of tricks and jokes and, in his way, of endings as well. So many versions of Ragnarok brought on by his former selves, how could he not be a little of that? On the other side of that, of course, was that when he was genuinely sad about something ending, when he genuinely regretted some things that he had done, he had made sure nobody was even watching. 

He knew that all could be forgiven, in the wake of victory. That old trope, that defeat means friendship, they would hold to that like it was holy writ in the shared religion of Being a Goddamn Superhero. He wished there were any particular hero he could blame for putting it in their heads, but it was just a Thing. A Thing that Heroes Did, with all those stupid capitalized letters. So he skirted it altogether, disappeared, hid in the background, nothing but a ghost posting to an instagram.

Which of course meant, them all being who they were, that some of them found him eventually. America wasn't the first to find him, and he'd even done some seeking out of his own, just to make sure this party was going to go down right. But Chavez was the first of their group, their team, as it were. 

He'd been out, making sure no one saw him drop the fliers, whispers in ears, rumors of the party of the century. Two nights before the party, she found him in a back alley on a street somewhere in the multiverse.

"Ah, Ms. Chavez, I can always tell when we're sharing a universe. It feels like the entire world wants to punch me in the face."

From behind him, she gave a snort of laughter. "That's not my fault, but I'll take the credit."

Loki indulged himself in an eyeroll before turning to face her, leaning in that way she had (he knew she would scoff if he named it as elegant as it was), all torn denim and red stripes. "Well?"

But she didn't go for him, didn't grab him up with one arm while winding the other one back, but stood there, scrunching her brow like he was a puzzle she just hadn't figured out where to kick yet to solve it. "I know it's you, y'know."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he claimed airily, studying his nails. She really had to hurry up. He had a meeting in an hour or so, just one more piece in the plan he was flippantly denying to the woman in front of him.

"The party, _atreivido_ ," she rolled her eyes and he felt a brief pang of annoyance for knowing that the same thing from him would probably get him hit. "You've done pretty well, but you just can't help leaving breadcrumbs, can you?"

It was, and always had been, a failing of his. After all, what fun was a joke if no one found out about it in the end? Still, he scowled. "And you insisted on following them." Of course she would. Her shrug echoed his thought.

America kept eyeing him, evidently hoping he'd squirm and confess under her stare. He had been stared at by worse, and merely raised his eyebrows back at her. She was the first to crack, pushing up her sleeves in what was probably a prelude to punching. "So spill." He gave her his blithest, most innocent look, the one that would never have worked, even on his old face. She growled, moved toward him, and he backed off, hands up to shield his face if needed.

Knowing America, it was probably needed. "Alright! Alright, geez..." At her look, he sighed, and explained. "It's just a party. A night for a bunch of teenage heroes from across the multiverse to let loose a little and have some fun ringing in the new year. Totally deserved, don't you think?"

"Yeah, alright, that's what it looks like on the surface, but--"

"Really." His flat insistence cut her off and he was rewarded with a look of irritation and confusion. "All of my tricks this time are focused on pulling this thing off, and doing it right."

A new argument arising, she kept her scowl. "So why all the secrecy? I mean, you have to be as good as I am to figure all this out." 

That one was easy enough. "No one would trust it if they knew it was being thrown by me." It was true, after all.

"And why should they?" Why should I trust it, he knew she was really asking. Why should I trust you? It was a good question, though probably never one you should ask a god of lies with a silver tongue.

He spread his hands as if inviting her to examine his work, metaphorically speaking, and shrugged. "You'll be there, won't you?" To protect everything, to keep her eye on it, and, yes, to punch Loki if it was needed. He rather trusted it wouldn't be needed, this time. It was also broader, that you, meaning all of those teenage superheroes, full of power and defiance and sheer teenage zeal. What force in the multiverse could overpower all of that, after all? "For once, I am on the level, if secretly so. And throwing what will be a pretty damn good party, to boot." He had spent and promised enough on it to make it such, after all.

America glared at him for a long moment, but she knew she was considering it. Finally, she smirked at some joke she had yet to share with him. "So. Loki finally pays, huh?"

Loki groaned, letting his head loll back on his shoulders so she couldn't quite see the massive eye roll her remark had produced. "Oh come on!" She was snickering anyway. She couldn't know just how deeply the remark itched. It was a cliche, and more and more it seemed like they ruled his life.

Loki didn't want anything to rule this new life, except himself. But the universe was apparently not going to let him off that easily. The universe never let any Loki off the hook that easily.

Her laughter died away and they stood there, the two of them, on some earth or another. If asked, neither would quite have been able to name what the other was to them, save that they were, and they were there. Loki shrugged the moment off. "So are you going?"

There was something genuinely happy in her smile, he imagined. "Of course. Someone needs to be able to whack you upside the head when you get out of line." When, not if, of course. Loki didn't answer. She narrowed her gaze. "What, are you not showing up to your own damn party?"

"Who would invite someone like me?" A shrug, nonchalant. " _Speaking_ of which, I really should get back to it. Things to see, people to do, all that." And with that, he walked off, hoping she wouldn't grab his collar to haul him backwards, wouldn't chase him, wouldn't stop him from dropping the conversation with all the grace of a bag of bricks. 

She didn't. America watched him go until he disappeared into the shadows at the end of the alley, a teleport or gating or something, she didn't know which. When he was finally gone, she muttered to herself, "More people than you'd think, maybe."

*

He knew that America knew he was there, at the party. Well, not at it, as such. But there. Hard to get anything by that girl, really. He also knew she'd avoid him if he avoided causing any trouble, and maybe that was really for the best. 

He could be in the shadows and hide from everything he had done, even the good things--especially the good things--and she wouldn't give that particular secret away. Because there were no happy endings for Lokis. And she knew that as well as he did. She allowed him his stories, even this one. She knew about stories needing darkness. She knew even better than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skipperjovi helped with the Spanish and she is the best. And I’m pretty sure discussions with skaldadottir helped too.


End file.
